


Hunting Island

by HollyGoPossumlovesJ2



Series: Vacation Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blow Job, Cute Jensen, Danneel is happy elsewhere, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, Jensen Ackles Smut, Jensen Ackles fluff, Jensen Ackles vacation, Jensen misses you while he's away, Just after season ends, Just for the story's sake, Literal Cheese, Non AU, Porn With Plot, Sleepy Jensen, Tent Sex, Things don't go according to plan, Thunderstorms, camping at the beach, pure Jensen objectification, season 12, tiny bit of angst if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 11:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyGoPossumlovesJ2/pseuds/HollyGoPossumlovesJ2
Summary: By the time you make it around the corner, Jensen is inside and already dropping his two bags to catch you in his arms. His grip is fierce as he groans appreciatively into your neck where he's immediately buried his face on a deep inhale.“God, I missed you.” His voice hasn't smoothed out any, dropping out a little like he's talked himself hoarse. He sounds even more exhausted as he sways a little in your arms.This was written for Kayla’s Birthday Challenge @one-shots-supernatural! Thanks so much for letting me join the challenge. This was a lot of fun and I hope you have a great birthday on May 17! My quote was: “Petrichor… it means the smell of the rain after it falls.” And my place was Camping!





	Hunting Island

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it! Its a little more fluff than I'm used to writing but that's what the birthday girl requested!
> 
> Next up, due in June, will be a super angsty one if that sort of thing floats your boat!
> 
> Please leave me love, life kinda sucks right now.

It's been difficult for Jensen to go anywhere lately without being noticed by someone. And while he usually doesn't mind signing an autograph or taking a picture or two, the man needs a vacation. Last night, you could tell by the gravel tone of his voice over the phone that the man was exhausted. 

Luckily, season 12 of Supernatural had just wrapped, and he was headed home to you for a much needed break.

After your last phone call with him, it had been easy to think that perhaps he was just tired from the wrap party he'd been to the night before. So, you'd tried to keep yourself occupied with straightening up the house you shared with him in Austin and making sure you'd packed everything. Instead of worrying.

Jensen had come up with the idea for this trip all on his own and it kind of made you so damn happy you could burst with it. 

After a good 24 hours rest, Jensen planned for the two of you to drive to the SC coast to go camping at Hunting Island State Park. It was somewhere you'd gone as a child with your parents and you knew it would be isolated enough for Jensen to be able to relax there.

You had been dating Jensen for nearly two years now, but it still made you glow with affection when he remembered these little details about you.

The only thing that concerned you was that he insisted that you were going to camp. In a tent. You had no issues with camping, having spent the majority of your life enjoying the outdoors. You just worried that perhaps he was biting off more than he could chew at the moment. That maybe he was trying too hard to make up for all the time he spent away from you.

He'd denied having thought any such thing when you brought it up. So, you'd dutifully dug his blue tent out of the garage with all of the other camping gear like he'd requested. It wasn't like you'd be roughing it. There were bath houses, after all.

Time seemed to drag on especially slowly when you knew he was on his way home. He always insisted that Cliff would pick him up so you wouldn't have to deal with the hassle of the crowd. So, most of the time you were left to wait impatiently at home. You always worried about him since he traveled so much. You always hoped vehemently for his safe return.

It was 2 am when you finally hear the tell tale noises of his key jiggling into the front door lock. It makes you spring clumsily from where you'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table, your forehead nearly stuck to your arm.

By the time you make it around the corner, Jensen is inside and already dropping his two bags to catch you in his arms. His grip is fierce as he groans appreciatively into your neck where he's immediately buried his face on a deep inhale. 

“God, I missed you.” His voice hasn't smoothed out any, dropping out a little like he's talked himself hoarse. He sounds even more exhausted as he sways a little in your arms.

You feel ridiculous moisture burn behind your eyes as you hug him back just as strongly beneath his jacket. You tuck your face into his layers of clothes so that you can nose against the body heated fabric of his t shirt over his collarbone. He smells of warm spices, the leather of his black jacket and home.

“Missed you…” You whisper as you drag the delicate skin of your lips across the pointy stubble of his sharp jaw and cheek before your lips meet in a reverent kiss. 

You feel a stab of pleasure in your tummy at the noise of contentment he makes at the back of his throat when he flicks his tongue across your lower lip.

There is nothing heated or dirty about the way his lips are on yours, but it still threatens to consume you. There is nothing ordinary or mundane about any moment spent with this man.

He cradles the side of your face in one long fingered hand, his sleep deprived eyes blood shot and damp as they look you over. A tilted smile brightens his features and even that is breath taking. “What’d you do to your forehead?” The fingers of his free hand come up to brush the hair from your face.

“Nothing.” Admittedly, it was a little defensive, but you know he was thinking that you'd hit your head on something. You are,, after all, a bit of a clutz. “I fell asleep at the table.” You finally offer up a little sheepishly when the only response Jensen gives you is a lifted eyebrow.

His chuckle is low but thoroughly amused as he dips down to brush his warm lips against the reddened patch of skin. His hand slides down to the small of your back where he presses you closer to him. You would never not want to be held close by him.

You try to keep it mostly to yourself, how much you miss him while he’s gone. You refuse to be one of those clingy girlfriends that insert themselves into everything their boyfriend do. You have your own job as an author and friends to keep you company on those long weeks away from him. Plus, you don’t want to be just another thing that he has to worry about.

But when he finally does come home, you suspect that he misses you just as deeply as you miss him. You'd tried to cut this front door greeting off before I'm the past, knowing that he'd probably want a hot shower to wash off the grime of travel and then bed. He'd always grumbled, holding you a little tighter, refusing to let you go. So there was nothing left for you to do but to bask in his undivided attention.

Eventually he manages to pull one arm away to grab his bags and you both struggle to fit beside each other as you walk down the hall to the bedroom. You'd offered to take one of his bags for him before, but that had just resulted in more grumbling and a closer hold. So, you stumble beside him when he accidentally hits the wall with the bags and giggle in a sleep deprived haze.

Predictably, he finally relinquishes his hold on you. He drops his bags again just as carelessly as before and then begins shedding clothes. You always take this opportunity to admire him while he's occupied and unable to distract you. You love to watch the sculpted muscles in his back work as he steps gingerly on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. 

He never bothers to close the door anymore as he goes about his routine of relieving himself and then brushing his teeth before finally having a steaming shower. You're able to lay in bed, after changing into pajamas, and listen to him sing whatever song is stuck in his head.

Tonight, his voice is still cracking in places as he mumbles the words to a Taylor Swift song and it makes your sleepy face muscles ache with the stupid smile. He's never great with drying off completely before he drags on a clean pair of boxer briefs and falls into bed. Which makes you ache in other places until you can finally get your mouth on his steam flushed skin.

He hums contentedly, one hand automatically threading through your hair as you mouth and kiss at his still damp neck. The other hand slowly slides up and down your back in a comforting cadence which makes you feel like he understands your need for this. Your first instinct is always to leave him alone so that he can sleep, but then you're overcome with the need to touch and satisfy that he's really there. So, you've long given into your desire to taste and touch his skin.

His hand eventually migrates down to your hip to rock you over his growing bulge, making his black boxer briefs tighten. You let him tease for just a moment longer before you slide your body down further, cradled nicely by his thick thighs and bow legs. Your shirt rides up enough that you can feel him hot and straining against your stomach as you kiss and tease your way down further.

He groans appreciatively as you pause to suck a deep mark into cluster of freckles dotted over the vulnerable skin just beneath the waist band of his shorts. His muscles jump beneath the tender skin as his cock jerks and strains against its cotton entrapment. And for a moment you hesitate, unable to decide if you just want to get your mouth on his silky flesh or if you want him to lazily thrust into you and fill you up.

You buy yourself some time to think while you mouth and suck him through the fabric, tasting the salty bitterness of his precome already soaking through. His groan is a little thready as he can't help but tilt his hips up into your lips, looking for more friction.

You pause a moment to look over the hills and valleys of his writhing body to take in his face as you tease his clothed balls with your finger tips. His face is blood warmed and flush, his parted lips wet and bitten. His eyes are heavy with arousal, begging you for release but you can still see the darkened bags beneath them that give away how tired he is.

That cinches the answer in your mind as you waste no time in dragging his boxer briefs off. He tips his hips up to help you, eager for your attention. Holding him in your hand, you lick a broad stripe from base to tip to slick the way for your lips. Feeling his needy moan as sharp pleasure in your chest, you suckle the bloated, spongy head into your mouth. 

Being so close to him, all you can smell is the sharp, heady scent of his clean sweat mixed with the musky oils in his skin. That, combined with the concentrated salty tang of precome on your tongue is overwhelming. This is all yours. This scent. This taste. This weight on your tongue. He doesn't give this to anyone but you. He trusts you to take him apart and put him back together again.The trust he has in you is implicit and you're determined to show him how much that means to you.

He's got one hand resting on the back of your neck, holding your hair out of the way, while the other is heavy on your shoulder. They're just resting there but you wouldn't mind if he were to start guiding your movements. If he were to take control and use your mouth as a device for his own pleasure. As it is, you don't take any more time to tease before you let him slide nearly all the way to the back of your throat, your tongue massaging the thick vein all the way down. 

A moan punches out of his throat as his head tips back against the pillows. You notice with satisfaction the rose splotched skin of his exposed neck as his Adam's apple rolls on a swallow. His visceral reactions fill you with a heavy sense of pride as you set up a steady rhythm that makes his hips rock in aborted thrusts.

He's lost that Southern twang somewhere over the years, but you recognize it in the slight slur of his breathy “Fuck, darlin’.” The tips of his fingers dig into your scalp and bunch up your shirt as you slide his throbbing length all the way to hold in the back of your throat. The whine that escapes him is worth fighting your gag reflex to swallow around him.

His hips stutter and twitch as you repeat the motion a couple of times. The tendons in his neck are stretched tight, straining the choppy sighs of pleasure leaving his throat in desperate bursts. You slide a hand reverently up over his thickly muscled thigh and hip to feel the delicate skin of his taut stomach twitch and tremble before his sweaty hand threads his fingers over yours.

The sweet gesture causes your eyes to flutter closed as you pull back a moment to breathe before sucking him long and hard on the way down and then back up. You take a moment to tongue into his slit, before paying special attention to the bundle of nerves just below his mushroomed head. Your hand glides easily over his silky, hot skin through the mess of spit and precome. 

“Y/N… Oh, fuck-.” His breathing is ragged, his grip unconsciously tightening over your hair and hand so that your bones grind together. “Gonna. Baby, I’m gonna-“ He manages to gasp in tortured agony before you swallow him down one last time. You hold him there just to feel him twitch and engorge further before his release pulses down the back of your throat.

His back is a severe arch, his hips lifted and twitching upward off the bed because you're not pining him down. He's too tired to keep from sobbing out his pleasure through his shock wide opened mouth. You ease him back down slowly and carefully, squeezing the backs of his thighs and enjoying the way the contractions still jump and his breath hitches in his throat.

By the time he's lying flat on the bed and you crawl up to give him a kiss he's mostly asleep. He grunts, his lips sloppily trying to return the kiss through a pleasure exhausted haze. You brush his productless, freshly dried hair from his forehead with tender fingers. Jensen has all the tension of a cooked spaghetti noodle and his ease makes you smile and kiss his cheek. “Sleep.”

 

It was about a 19 hour drive to Hunting Island State Park, South Carolina from your home in Austin, Texas. However, including several food and fuel stops, you made it in about 24. You and Jensen had been eager to make it to this little barrier island of freedom. So, you'd traded off driving responsibilities.

However, with Jensen’s compunction to fall asleep when the wheels started rolling in any vehicle, it was you who ended up driving for the majority of time. You didn't mind one bit, knowing that the man was finally getting some rest was enough reason for you to keep your foot on the accelerator.

It was a point of pride for you, being able to travel well. It was something you'd learned from your father. Plus, it didn't hurt that you were able to snap unlimited slack jawed blackmail photos of Jensen deeply asleep with his face mushed into his jacket and window.

It took you a few months to get over the guilt of snapping pictures of Jensen unawares, like you were some intrusive paparazzi. It hadn't taken too long after for that to realize that these pictures were never intended to go anywhere but to soothe you while he was away. Jensen was quick to agree with that. 

If Jensen wasn't asleep, he was flipping through his iPod, searching suitable road trip music to sing to. It ranged anywhere from ‘Stairway to Heaven’ to something like ‘Hakuna Matata’. Jensen had quite the extensive music collection and absolutely no self-consciousness to hold him back from singing at the top of his lungs.

It was a little unfair how punch drunk you still got sitting beside him while he belted out the Eric Church song ‘Smoke a Little Smoke’ with abandon, complete with shifting shoulders. His now barefoot stomping out a clear beat against the SUV’s dashboard. The sun is glinting of the shiny black of his Aviators and blinding smile. The wind blowing in heavy from the open window buffeting his soft, productless hair, highlighting the streaks of auburn.

Yeah, you were a little stupid over this man.

As you traveled south, you noticed the cloud cover becoming more and more prominent. However, there was only a 20% chance of thunderstorms, Jensen assured you that he had checked.

Along with Jensen’s increasingly relaxed attitude, you noticed that he gave even less consideration to what he was putting into his mouth. Not that you were complaining. You always watched on in sympathy if he was on a juice cleanse while he was home. His large, expressive eyes looking at a glass of green stuff with open disdain somehow pulled your heart strings.

The plan was to get camp set up as soon as possible and then drive back to one of the bigger islands to stock up on food. Jensen was insanely excited about getting marshmallows to roast over a campfire at some point this week. The man could be such a child and you loved it. However, in counterpoint to that, the man could hold himself to such rigid expectations that you often worried about his self-imposed stress levels.

But, this trip was to help him relax and put Season 12 and all of its stressors out of his mind for a little while. 

The hike into the tent campsites on the island were a good mile in, but you decided the view and seclusion was well worth it. The tent construction itself was a little unorganized but done with lots of joking a laughter. Yes. With your toes finally in the sand, salty sea breeze in your face and the man you loved before you? This was shaping up to be just what was needed.

The problems didn't start until you were startled awake by the loudest clap of thunder echoing across the open ocean and vibrating through the covers surrounding the two of you. You'd managed to relax back into Jensen's chest when the first large drop of rain splattered against the flimsy material of the tent.

“Wha-?” Jensen sat up quickly in confusion, dislodging your comfy spot. That's when the sky opened up, dumping buckets of rain.

“It's just the rain.” You patted blindly behind you, catching somewhere on his chest. “Go back to sleep.” You fumbled around at the front of the tent to make sure the cell phones, etc were enclosed in the ziplock baggie still. Satisfied that everything was safe, you relaxed back down in anticipation of falling asleep to the patter of rain when Jensen cussed and sat up again.

“Shit.” He repeated, throwing off the blanket. “The damn tent is leaking.”

Well, shit. There was no way you could get from the tent to the car without getting soaked and probably twisting an ankle. The best bet was probably to just stay put and wait until morning.

“I checked. It was only 20% if that! And this tent is supposed to be leak proof.” You could already tell Jensen was ramping up for freak out, already undoing any progress he'd made on the drive here.

“Jay, its fine. It's just a little water. The important stuff is protected…” You reached your hand out again as you sat up, trying to find him in the pitch black of the two-person tent. Water dripped through the land on the top of your head. Okay, so that could prove to be kind of annoying. “We’ll just stop by the laundromat in town and-“

“I don't want you to spend a day of our vacation stuck in a damn laundromat!” Here we go.

Your hand finally landed on his shoulder which was already rigid with tension. “We can adapt. If you want, we can get a hotel tomorrow. It's gonna be…”

“If you say ‘fine’ one more time, Y/N, I swear to God.” Another cataclysmic clap of thunder was closely followed by a blinding flash of lighting that lit up Jensen's down turned face. “I just. I need a damn minute, okay?” 

The worst thing about this entire situation, including the new places on the top of the tent that began to drop down in earnest now, was Jensen's self-imposed flagellation. Until he was ready to admit that things were going to be okay on his own, the tent was going to be an uncomfortable pit of anxiety and stress. Forgive you if you weren't on board with that. This was your vacation too and you didn't give a damn if it was spent holed up in a leaky tent or stranded on the side of the road. But how the hell were you supposed to make Jensen see that if he wasn't listening to reason?

Jensen’s POV

When she was suddenly unzipping the tent aggressively and stepping out into the storm in her damn pajama shorts and tank top I knew I was in trouble. “Hey, where are you going?”

She shot me a stern look, as stern as she could be getting immediately soaked by the rain, before she zipped up the tent behind her.

I just knew that she was going to attempt the trail back to the car on her own in the pitch black. That she would rather risk breaking an arm or leg than to spend one more minute stuck with me in this tent. I couldn’t actually bring myself to blame her in any way.

I couldn't do anything to fix this situation, I mean how could I? I can’t influence the weather. All I ever strove for was perfection and I was always landing so far from the mark lately. It was only a matter of time before she became frustrated with me too. But that didn't mean she should endanger herself just to get away from me. If anything happened to her I’d never forgive myself.

As I unzipped the tent, preparing to go after and explain that I'd stay as far away from her in the tent as possible, I was drawn up short by what was right in front of me. My jaw was hanging open either in shock of just what the hell she was doing or just how damn hot she looked. 

She had gone over to the cooler of drinks, pulled out a beer and was proceeding to drink it in one go. The rain had wasted no time in soaking through the thin fabric of her pajamas, flattening her hair to her head. Somehow I was outside of the tent, the warm sheets of rain soaking my clothes instantly. 

I felt my body take notice of her wet warm curves and dark eye lashes highlighted only by the flashes of lightening. It was hard to tell if the storm was moving away or just getting started. All feelings of disappointment vanished to be replaced with confused arousal. “What are you doing?” I let my shaky legs carry me over to her, my hands immediately reaching out to touch her arms in the rain soaked shirt warmed by her skin. Relief rushed over me as I was able to touch and feel her still standing here with me.

“Well,” she began, shrugging as she ran her tongue maddeningly over her wet bottom lip. “If you can’t beat it, embrace it. Learn how to dance in the rain and all that.”

“Learn how to…” I trailed off, the smile on my face and burning affection in my chest overwhelming my words. I was constantly learning from her and she made it look so damn effortless. I pulled her to my chest, my arms wrapping tightly around her shoulders and tucked her head protectively beneath my chin. “What did I do to deserve you?” 

Her response was muffled into my saturated t shirt, “I dunno. It must’ve been something awful.”

It felt like it was happening in slow mo, when in all actuality it happened at the same time. I’d pulled her face to mine so that I could kiss the self-doubt directly out of her mouth so it couldn’t hurt her anymore. But just as our lips met, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, lightening flashed blindingly white against my closed eye lids and it felt like a current shot through me like a tuning fork. It was all followed by a clap of thunder that vibrated hard in my chest and stole my breath.

She pulled away instantly, a bright look of wonder on her face before we both turned to run back to the illusion of safety that was the tent. Oddly, as I followed Y/N’s lead and began ditching my wet, sagging clothes, an epiphany struck me much like it felt like the lightening had struck us seconds earlier.

In my life, I tried to challenge myself, to push myself out of my comfort zone. I felt like I had succeeded in doing that with my professional life. I’d been able to put the shy, anxious part of my personality on the back burner. But for so long I’d been lying to myself about my personal relationships. I’d always tended to gravitate towards the safe and predictable. I always put the pressure on myself when they didn’t instantly bend into what I expected them to be.

I followed her into the tent, our saturated skin sliding warmly against each other as I blanketed her body. I felt like I had pins and needles all over, every nerve alive and buzzing for stimulation. That was when I realized that this was why my relationship with her was so different.

As our mouths fumbled to meet in the dark and she wrapped her arms and legs snug around my neck and hips, it dawned on me how much she challenged me to do better without making me feel worthless. How my carefully constructed walls crumbled to dust with the full spectrum of emotions that she inspired me to feel. Of the many ways she’d effected the many facets of my life for the better.

The need to see her expressive eyes hit me like a succor punch to the gut. I pushed up suddenly, our lips making a wet smacking noise, struggling to see her face in the deep dark of the storm that continued to ramp up. It was clear that it was settling in for the long haul as the wind caused the sides of the tent to ripple. “Hey.” I steadied her face in one hand, leaning in closer so I could catch the intermittent illumination dancing across her blood flushed skin. The lightening caught the droplets of rain still on her skin, reflecting iridescence and giving her an ethereal glow.

“Hey, Jay.’ She whispered back with a smile like a secret, her white teeth flashing back at me. 

A bright, tangible glow of adoration settled warmly in my chest as I helplessly smiled back. Her finger’s carded through soaking wet hair, causing stray rivulets of water to slide down my face to drip off my chin onto her neck.

She shivered against me, her soft laugh vibrating against my chest and I wanted to bind myself to her. I would meld myself into her skin and live there forever if I could. She was it for me and the realization was as much startling as it was sweet relief. To acknowledge the feeling and let it settle into my bones. The words were so easy to say, but didn’t even begin to describe the sharp pain-pleasure of it as it wrapped and squeezed around my thrashing heart. “I love you.”

“God, so much.” She breathed out just before leaning up to crush her lips into mine, welcoming my appetent tongue into her mouth with a satisfied sigh. 

Our panting breath became ragged quickly, getting caught in my throat every time her slick heat brushed against my cock. Without a word, she shamelessly begged me with her body. Clinging and undulating, pinned beneath my heavy weight, as she held on tight.

Y/N’s POV

At your wit’s end, boarding on complete desperation, you bracketed your knees high on the barrel of his chest and squeezed. You tilted your hips, begging him to turn over without relinquishing your connection with his mouth. Without hesitation he followed your request, taking care to position himself with you in the center of the tent like it would protect you from the raging storm outside. 

You wished that it was daytime so that you could see the air swirling with torn green leaves caught in the tempest and the dark grey wisps of storm clouds as it was mirrored in Jensen’s pleasure glazed eyes.

The wind buffeted the sides of the tent and you weren’t positive that you wouldn’t be blown away. Maybe absorbed into the violent rush never to be seen again. But nothing really pierced through the lustful haze like the exposed reverence that was revealed to you in bright, erratic flashes.

You couldn’t help but sigh, “Jay,” as you rose up on your knees, your intent plain. You wanted him buried deep inside you, for the raw look on his face to devour you until nothing was left but his soul and yours intertwined.

His face split into a heartbreaking smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. And for that you couldn't stop yourself from kissing those adorable lips again.

At the tight pressure surrounding his cock bit by bit, his body tended as he leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours. The desperate tone of your breathing in sync with each other, hands gripping shoulders and arms because you felt like you might actually be floating amidst the chaos surrounding you. 

Jensen broke the synchronization with a gasp of pleasure as he bottomed out, his hands sliding down your damp skin to rest on your hips. At this point the wet could be from sweat or left over from the rain, but it didn't matter as you slipped against each other. The pace you set was slow as you rocked in tight circles in his lap, unwilling to let go of him just yet. Even if he was going to drive back in, the distance seemed unbearable at the moment.

He tucked his head further into the crook of your neck and shoulder, breathing in deep lungful of your scent. He sounded dazed when he began to talk, bucking his hips up now to meet you. “Petrichor.” He paused to bit his bottom lip when you put a little roll on your hip movement. “Petrichor,” he started again in a gravely, breathy tone. “…is the smell of the earth after it r-rains. That's what you smell like right now.”

His eyes were pleasure glazed but so earnest as his dark forest green flickered in the bright light. You sat up, driving him in a little deeper causing you both to moan, barely heard over the howling wind. 

“Which makes sense because-“ You couldn't help the smile on your face or the burn in your chest as you felt the deepest affection for Jensen's habit of speaking while mid coitus. The man with the grumpy exterior had said some of the most endearing things. 

This was yours too. Nobody got this vulnerability from him in a tent on the beach in the middle of the loudest storm you'd heard to date. “Because you're my earth and moon and s-sun and my stars. God, you're everything.”

He sat up, his abs tensing and flexing, before he was flush against you as you straddled his lap. You were breathless, overwhelmed. Not because of some burst of pleasure, but from the love you felt for him and from him as he guided your hips into a faster pace. 

You wouldn't last long like this, feeling the first shocks of pleasure zinging up your spine. You thread your fingers through his hair and brought his open mouth to yours, smothering his grunts of frustration. Without giving up his connection with your mouth or hips, he tucked his legs beneath him. His moan of relief vibrated in your mouth as he was finally able to thrust up like he wanted to.

His thrusts were sharp, only allowing himself to drag out partially before filling you back up and punching the breath out of your lungs on every snap. Each time he hit your sweet spot, his mouth rotating between nibbling and suckling your nipples, made you feel like you were boneless. Like everything responsible of keeping you together besides Jensen had liquified. 

When he was finished with teasing your nipples, he tilted his head back, dragging gulps of oxygen in through red, swollen lips. There was a light sheen of sweat over his neck and shoulders. His debauched look completed when his liquid, glittering eyes connected with yours. “Come with me?” The nearly hoarse quality to his voice punched low in your belly and all you could do was nod. You'd follow him over the proverbial cliff. You'd follow him anywhere.

Your orgasm sent you over the edge first, your core clamping around him just as your finger nails dug into the meat of his broad shoulders. He was only seconds behind you, his pleasure ripped from him, his moans a mixture of ecstasy and pure torture. He bit into the crook of your neck and shoulder to smother his noises, creating a mouth shaped bruise that would stay, treasured there for days.

As his thrusts slowed, he tipped forward, laying you gently down in the pile of your damp blankets. He hummed contentedly as he kissed your lips, jaw and throat before a laugh escaped him. He reached back to grab the back of his thigh, digging into the muscle. “Freaking cramp, ow.” He laughed some more, tucking his flushed face against your neck. He couldn't seem to make up his mind between grumbling and laughing.

You giggled too, your hand sneaking down his back to pinch his ass. You laughed harder at his indignant squawk, “A cramp, really?”  
“Hey! It's a sign that I'm a God of sex!” He was still laughing, his lower body twitching with discomfort.

“Do you want me to massage that pesky cramp away?” You asked with barely contained laughter and fondness.

“No. Yes. Maybe?” 

The storm was quieting down outside, the rain having stopped a little while before. You would have to spend some time at the laundry mat cleaning up after the kink in your plans. Just like the clean up you'd probably have to do in the future when things didn't go your way. But, you knew none of that mattered, as long as Jensen was by your side through it all.


End file.
